The disconnected confusion of a fugue abruptly disturbed still lies over Dirk's brain like a film, but the picture snaps into place--like a pair of huge hands came in and forced the pieces together, aggressively. The mask, the woman, Ranboo, her brain. The brains--the brains are what revive them. And Ranboo's brain--
Dirk is weirdly disorientated, and yet that part--and that part alone--all makes sense. His comprehension of it exists. But it's like it exists next to him. There's him, and then there's the part of him that understands--somewhere to his right. Or is that his brain, and he's to the left?
It almost doesn't matter, but it makes for a disjointed state, understanding and not understanding, being present but extremely not present all at the same time. Nothing else has really reached him, yet--the fact that he was just caught embarrassing himself the way he was, that he'd so checked out of the actual events that he fell asleep while curled up with the body of a man who wasn't even dead. It's a distant fifth or eighth or sixteenth on the scale of things he's capable of dealing with right now. The fact that he doesn't want to deal with it--or acknowledge it, or think about that decision at all--is definitely playing a role in its low rank. But mostly, it's just--
Well. It just doesn't fucking matter.
"That--no, hang on--I was trying to fucking show you--" he turns, rolling away from Ranboo, thoughts simultaneously racing and standing still--and grabs the woman's decapitated head, lifting it from the bed to shove it directly into Ranboo's face.
It's a gruesome object. The hair, where it remains, is caked with tacky blood, bone dust, and flecks of gore. It's shiny and slicked where cerebrospinal fluid spilled out, and it smells... well it smells bad. It smells really bad. There's a fatty smell to brain, and that's on top of the smell of gore, and meat, and skin oils... and shampoo. Her lips have long gone dry, and are dark with dried blood, her skin pale and cold and strangely artificial feeling from death. Her eyes are not quite fully closed. And then there's the open bottom of her neck.
But none of that is what he's trying to show Ranboo. This isn't about her, it's what he found in her--he tilts her towards Ranboo's face to reveal it all. Wires, nodes, open cranium, an exposed brain.
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timeasmymeasure
ALSO beefed up this one!
Date: 2024-08-13 11:56 am (UTC)Dirk is weirdly disorientated, and yet that part--and that part alone--all makes sense. His comprehension of it exists. But it's like it exists next to him. There's him, and then there's the part of him that understands--somewhere to his right. Or is that his brain, and he's to the left?
It almost doesn't matter, but it makes for a disjointed state, understanding and not understanding, being present but extremely not present all at the same time. Nothing else has really reached him, yet--the fact that he was just caught embarrassing himself the way he was, that he'd so checked out of the actual events that he fell asleep while curled up with the body of a man who wasn't even dead. It's a distant fifth or eighth or sixteenth on the scale of things he's capable of dealing with right now. The fact that he doesn't want to deal with it--or acknowledge it, or think about that decision at all--is definitely playing a role in its low rank. But mostly, it's just--
Well. It just doesn't fucking matter.
"That--no, hang on--I was trying to fucking show you--" he turns, rolling away from Ranboo, thoughts simultaneously racing and standing still--and grabs the woman's decapitated head, lifting it from the bed to shove it directly into Ranboo's face.
It's a gruesome object. The hair, where it remains, is caked with tacky blood, bone dust, and flecks of gore. It's shiny and slicked where cerebrospinal fluid spilled out, and it smells... well it smells bad. It smells really bad. There's a fatty smell to brain, and that's on top of the smell of gore, and meat, and skin oils... and shampoo. Her lips have long gone dry, and are dark with dried blood, her skin pale and cold and strangely artificial feeling from death. Her eyes are not quite fully closed. And then there's the open bottom of her neck.
But none of that is what he's trying to show Ranboo. This isn't about her, it's what he found in her--he tilts her towards Ranboo's face to reveal it all. Wires, nodes, open cranium, an exposed brain.
The inner workings of Showfall's control.